


Promises Made (XTR3-M15 Is More Than A Formula)

by AngeNoir



Series: Write-Away Giveaway Fills on Tumblr [8]
Category: Captain America, Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, implied future relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:34:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeNoir/pseuds/AngeNoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve was lucky he found out about this experimental study, and that they were still accepting volunteers - and paying them well enough for his mother's medical bills. Dr. Erskine and Dr. Hansen both seemed to know what they were doing, and put him at ease.</p><p>The only sour note is engineer Tony Stark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises Made (XTR3-M15 Is More Than A Formula)

**Author's Note:**

> As a celebration for reaching 100 followers on tumblr, I'm holding a giveaway [here](http://outercorner.tumblr.com/post/51036127748/write-away-giveaway-last-call-3-hours-left), and what I'm giving away is prompt fills for anyone who asks! I received this prompt from [slashersivi](http://slashersivi.tumblr.com):
> 
> _Cap-IM AU Steve Rogers is a modern candidate for Extremis, funded (and co-engineered) by Tony Stark_

“Is it safe?”

“Hell no.” Stark slugged back another shot, and Steve looked at him from the side, worried but not sure how to show it. “Not like we have a choice, you know? Ran all the tests. Everything seems to check out fine.”

“Dr. Hansen said there was only a 17% chance of failure,” Steve hedged. He couldn’t stop fiddling with the hem of his shirt, staring at his too-skinny wrists and the cuffs that were dirtied and frayed. He’d come down to the mess hall because he was nervous, and was hoping that Dr. Erskine, the head researcher on this project, was around, because he liked Steve and Steve liked him, and they could have long discussions about art and literature and Steve could forget his reasons for doing this, for signing up for this horrifically risky and dangerous procedure.

Stark let out a bark of laughter. “I like you, kid,” he said, pointing a wavering finger in Steve’s general direction. “Don’t like a lot of the subjects here.”

Steve’s spine stiffened at that. “I’m not a subject,” he objected. “I’m a volunteer.” He wasn’t going to touch the ‘kid’ part, because Stark was himself barely past his mid-twenties. Steve wasn’t _that_ young, in comparison, and Stark was one of the youngest engineers. A young genius who was too caustic to really work with anyone was what everyone called him, and Steve found himself inclined to agree.

Waving his hand negligently, Stark poured himself another drink. “It’s not gonna work. You’ve got a 17% chance of dying. You’ve also got only a 9% chance of getting through this alive and sane and not crippled.” With a bitter smile, Stark toasted Steve with his glass. “Amazing what selective reporting of numbers can do to garner test subjects. Still. That’s better than last week. Last week it was only 4% chance of getting through live, sane, and whole. And a 25% chance of failure by dying.”

Steve swallowed hard. “It – that doesn’t change anything, of course.”

“Of course,” Stark muttered. “They only grabbed the desperate ones, after all.”

That pricked Steve, because he was – okay, he was desperate, yes, but most of the people here were for the money, to pay off gambling debts, or because they were addicted to some kind of substance, or because they were dying anyway. No one was here for the same reason Steve was and… and he felt that made a difference.

But it didn’t make a difference to the numbers, he told himself morosely.

“Is that why you called me here?” Steve finally asked. Stark wasn’t even supposed to have direct contact with the subjects unless absolutely necessary. He was in charge of making certain the mechanics and machines didn’t break down on the research team, but it was the team that Dr. Erskine and Dr. Hansen put together that was actually designing the XTR3-M15 formula that was supposed to remove illnesses and maximize human potential.

Stark laughed faintly. “You could say so. Do you know why everyone else is here? The subjects?”

Steve gave Stark a level glance. “Yeah, I do. What does that have to do with me, sir?”

“Don’t sir me, I feel like my father when you do that.” Stark swallowed hard and said, almost casually, “Let’s say it’s successful for you. What happens then?”

Steve blinked at Stark. “Then… then it becomes mass produced. Sponsors are found for it. It can save a lot of lives.”

“Where do you think the funding for this comes from?” Stark said, almost kindly, and Steve didn’t appreciate the patronizing tone. “Who do you think is sponsoring it at the moment?”

Steve thought back to the many guns carried by the security guards, the dress greens and medals. “The military,” he said slowly, because he wasn’t naïve. He knew that the military had been funding it. But Dr. Erskine wanted to better the human condition, everyone. He wanted to eradicate diseases like HIV and diabetes. He had taken military funding, but – “The military wouldn’t keep this from becoming something good, would it?” he said. “I don’t – “ _want to become a subject locked in a military lab for the rest of my life_. _I want Dr. Erskine’s vision to become realized._

Stark watched him with too-knowing eyes. “You’re a good kid, you know that?” he murmured, voice soft and eyes sad. “I hope you live. You’ll do great things if it works.”

“You don’t think it will,” Steve countered, because he couldn’t leave it alone. “You think all the test subjects will die.”

Stark’s mouth twisted. “Not die. Go insane, sure. Become crippled, sure. Have it a dud, and nothing change, sure. But not die.”

“Not succeed,” Steve countered.

“Should it succeed? Should people have this kind of power, mass-produced?” Stark countered.

Steve swallowed hard. “If people had it, they could change the world. They could make it better.”

“And would you? Would you devote your life, if it worked? If you had it?”

“We’ll see tomorrow, won’t we? You said yourself, you don’t think it will succeed.” Steve stood up and moved to the door of Stark’s office.

“Rogers!”

Steve turned around in the doorway, to see Stark standing, gripping the edge of the table as if needing to, in order to stay upright – but his knuckles were white, and he wouldn’t quite meet Steve’s eyes. “Would you?” he repeated, softly.

Steve decided giving Stark a straight answer wouldn’t hurt. “I would,” he responded quietly.

For a long moment, Stark held his gaze, and then he slumped back down in his seat. “Yeah, I kinda thought you would,” he muttered.

With nothing else forthcoming, Steve left the office, wondering why Stark had called him up and what purpose the conversation had served.

The next day, being strapped naked into the machine Stark had made, he looked over to see that Stark was at the controls – an oddity, because Stark rarely watched, let alone participated, in the trials and testing. “Stark?” he asked, confused.

“You just remember that you would,” Stark murmured under his breath. “Also, I really prefer Tony. Stark is too much like my dad.”

Stark – Tony? – was disheveled, dark circles ringing bloodshot eyes, hands twitching more than normal. “Are you alright, Sta – ah – Tony?” Steve asked, squinting. “Should you even be here?”

“That’s a lovely greeting for the person who’s saving your life,” Stark – _Tony_ – replied dryly, but before Steve could answer, an attendant was strapping a mask to his face, telling him to take deep breaths and soon it would all be over.

Next thing he knew, he was opening his eyes, hearing shouts and gunshots and screams. Instinctively, he jerked forward, trying to get to safety and figure out what was going on, but straps pressed against his skin and he fell back, panting, trembling from the aftereffects of anesthesia, feeling as if he could never get warm again. His shivers were hard enough that he could hear metal rattling, and then a too-hot hand gripped his own.

He blearily opened eyes to see Tony Stark’s intense brown ones, lashes flecked with blood, staring at him. “Tony?” he mumbled through chattering teeth. “Whuhs gon on?”

That thin mouth twisted into a pain-filled, triumphant smile. “Saved your life,” Tony breathed, and then he crashed to the floor.

(Later Steve would learn that he passed out shortly after Tony Stark.)

(Later he would learn that the secret base wasn’t so secret, that Dr. Erskine was killed and the machine that Steve had been in irrevocably prepared.)

(Later he would learn that, of the twenty-five test subjects [people] who were injected with the XTR3-M15 formula, only two survived, both of whom had been personally attended to by Tony Stark – Steve Rogers and Bruce Banner.)

(Later, he would find out just to what lengths the military would go to extract the information from his body and Bruce’s body and Tony’s mind for the correct solution.)

(Later he would fall into Tony’s bed, laughing and turning off the lights with a thought, turning up the heat with another.)

(Later.)


End file.
